


Bought, Not Sold

by soda_coded



Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aftercare, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soda_coded/pseuds/soda_coded
Summary: They always thought the price meant they were buying quality- Worrick was just buying lunch.
Relationships: Worick Arcangelo/Nicolas Brown
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	Bought, Not Sold

Worick woke up early on Sundays for his outstanding date with the widow he’d picked up in Doc Theo’s office. They met up in front of the aquarium at the bench by the bus stop. She paid for the tickets. This time the man at the counter called him her son, making Worick pinch her bottom while she flushed. They held hands around the park for an hour or so, easily worth the early hour. She liked the turtles, especially when they swam, but Worick liked the angel fish. They were huge. His father had angelfish but they had never grown so big. 

No one noticed when she tugged him into the bathroom, and then he was on his knees til noon. When he finally walked outside, he’s wearing her sunglasses and eating the ice cream she’d bought him. His tongue had that fuzzy, numb feeling it got from overuse. 

He was also 50,000¥ richer. They always thought the price meant they were buying quality- Worick was just buying lunch.

He met up with Nic by the dock and they got quick bowls of ramen at the convenience store. Splurged to get boiled tea eggs. He liked them, and Nic needed it the way the younger boy had been packing on muscle. Left him with a pat and a bid to find work, the lazy bum, before heading to his next date.

His dates made him feel more like the suave young man he pretended to be, all fallen old money and wicked grins. All pretend. And in the end, they didn’t care about his sweet manners anyway, they cared about the tongue behind that grin. So, dates. 

His job was still easier than some of the girls he’d made friends with, here. Wished he was big enough to be the kind of back up Nic could for them. He ran a lot of those jobs, standing with his back to the alley, ears deaf to what was happening behind him. 

Worick’s job was alright. He was careful with who he targeted, and they were good at knowing their clientele. He’d never had to steal, and only had to run once. Normally it was obvious early if they were crazy.  _ Lucky _ . He was lucky,  _ really _ . The women always wanted to go somewhere, and they always paid. Normally they were just as interested in sucking as getting sucked which was a blessing and a curse. Still, most nights he didn’t just bring back cash, but food, clothes, candy… flowers, more often than he’d expected. 

He was tired by the time he made it home, tongue-tied and sweaty under the styled fall of his hair. He smelled sticky, and sweet and secret, and his feet ached from the walking. It was late too, but that was because he’d stopped at the store on the way home. When he opened the door Nic padded around the corner, smiling at him. It wasn’t until Worick got close that Nic’s nose wrinkled. 

“Pu-ssy.” He bit out, and Worick grinned, stretching his tired mouth. 

“Din-ner.” He corrected, sailing past the other boy. “And no name-calling. Did  _ you _ do anything productive today?”

“Killed. A c-cop.” Nic said, forced to grit out the words since Worick had his back to him. It’s a testament to how tired he was that Worick just nodded peaceably, shaking a cigarette out only to have it hit the floor when his head whipped around. 

“You. What? Nic. Holy  _ shit _ . We’ll be-”

‘Not murdered.’ Nic signed. ‘Bus accident.’

His gaze was still flat, but he wasn’t wrinkling his nose anymore so he was probably back to normal.

“Hmm.” Worick said. “Did you still get paid?”

‘Yes.’ Nic signed, his hands slashing quickly through the air, a little insulted. The all too human expression on his face, only served to feed Worick’s too good mood.

“Good boy.” Worick said casually, dropping full bags on the counter before heading for the bathroom. “I’ll go shower. Start the water?”

“O-K.” Nic mumbled and Worick shot him a smile around the closing door.

When he came out, leaving his reflection and suds around the drain behind, it was to find that Nic hadn’t only started water, but he’d started the water boiling and was chopping the veggies Worick had bought with a gentle rocking of his katana. The blade was almost the length of the counter, but the slices of green onion were as fine as anything Worick had eaten growing up.

“So domestic~” He said and draped himself warmly along Nic’s back, tucking his face close to the other boy’s. This way, even if he couldn’t hear what Worick was saying, he could feel the words. Subtle, silent vibrations poured into the shell of his ear.

Nic lifted a hand to sign. 

‘You’re heavy.’

“Mmm. You smell good.” Worick said. He did. He smelled like home and that was so much on a day like this. He smelled like the bar soap they shared and reused socks, and clean, healthy unbruised boy. Then, signing so he could see ‘Did you guess what we’re making?’

‘Pasta.’ Nic signed, eyes deadpan, instead of dead and Worick pressed his grin to the warm neck beside him. ‘Right?’

‘Good guess.’ Worick teased, before stepping away, over to the sink to rinse out the same saucepan he’d used last night for pasta. They ate a lot of pasta. It was cheap, and filling and he was good at cooking it. For a few moments, they worked in complete silence as Nic finished his chopping and Worick set an oiled pan onto the stove top.

When Nicholas stepped forward holding the cutting board, it was without thought that Worick stepped closer, wrapping an arm around the other boy’s waist. Snugging them together the way they’d often had to sleep on the streets, just to stay warm. The vegetables hit the oil with a sharp splatter, but Worick hummed, irrepressible. They’d soften soon enough.

“Hung-ry?” Nic asked, a question within a question, concern dragged along the broken path of his voice. 

“Yeah.” Worick answered, and he was today, and that was good. Some days he came home and didn’t want anything near his mouth. Nic stirred the pan thoughtfully beside him. 

Once Nic had cleaned plates, and Worick announced it was done, they curled up on the holey couch. They still didn’t have a tv, or a radio, but they had an apartment which was a damn sight better off than they were this time last year. The food went fast, leaving Worick to tiredly clean up the mess, stacking and carrying empty plates to the kitchen. 

“What now?” He asked, and Nicholas looked at him. Just looking, his dark eyes taking him from his skittish eyes, to his toes curling on the floor. 

‘Bed.’ He signed and Worick laughed nervously, still pleased. He wasn’t that tired, he just didn’t know… Some nights he couldn’t sleep until Nicholas soothed him to bed with rough, heavy touches and soft, wordless grunts. Nights like tonight, Worick knew he couldn’t stand it, his skin screaming with the hypersensitivity of today’s actions. 

“Ah, you know, I’m-”

‘Just bed.’ Nicholas signed, looking unaccountably tired himself, and Worick wrapped himself around Nic without thinking, even though a moment ago it was the thing he’d wanted least. 

“Thanks.” Worick said, and then laughed. “I don’t know why that always makes me so nervous-”

“We we-re both tra-i-ned. To say. Yes.” Nicholas said, saying it slowly. So that he was heard and Worick slumped against him. 

He wasn’t wrong.

But he wasn’t right.

“Nah, it’s just with you.” Worick whispered sweetly. “I think I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“ _ Ne-ver. _ ” Nicholas said, and Worick was smiling as they walked toward the bed.

Well, half a bed. They still didn’t have a headboard. Way too broke for shit like  _ that _ .


End file.
